Nothing bores me to death
faster than listening to some chalky, pinch-faced Soulcycle enthusiast drone on
about their super-special, vegan, organic, locavore, non-processed, plant-based
diet. Diet talk of any kind has always bored me, even when I was massage
therapist and was supposed to care about these things. Along with that comes my
annoyance with all things juice-related. I felt vindicated this week when I
read the article “Stop Juicing” by Katy Waldman on Slate. She pretty much
nailed everything I find odious about our nation’s juicing obsession. It’s fetishistic,
elitist, and at the same time, weirdly infantile. I never understood the appeal
of taking perfectly good produce and laboriously grinding it into a dropper-full
of liquid through an expensive machine. I delighted in reading the article, but
then fell down the comment rabbit-hole and was horrified at the backlash from
an army of half-informed armchair nutritionists wielding their collective “clean
eating” mania to virtue-signal and lord their pricey, exclusionary juice habits
over the rest of us. We are living with such an obscene abundance of food that
we actually have the luxury to create shame around eating. “Clean” diets are our
national religion and the new refuge of moral scolds.
Full disclosure: I had a brief
foray into juicing a few years ago when I was given a juicer as a gift. I gave
up it frustration when I realized it took seven oranges, three pounds of
blueberries and a head of kale to eke out barely a shot glass worth of juice.
The only benefit I got from it were the copious calories burnt from the two
hours it took to clean the machine afterwards.
In preparation for a long-awaited
upcoming trip, I started reading UK news websites, among them, the UK Daily Mail. After a few weeks of smirking and rolling my eyes at its utter trashiness…well….I
got hooked, folks. I now un-ironically love it. It’s become my go-to morning
coffee-sipping site. I am agape at all of the horrible news stories from
Florida (they are obsessed with Florida), appalled at the scandalous low-cut
blouses worn by the latest pop sugar icon or posh royal, and continuously
bemused by their headline writing STYLE in which they seemingly capitalize
WORDS at RANDOM. I’m sure there’s some scientifically-proven click-bait formula
behind it, but I have yet to figure it out. Not that I need to justify my
trashy reading habits, but in my defense, they do have an awesome Historical Photography
section that I always find fascinating, if a little…off factually now and then.
In their defense, oddly, many of their Historical Photographs center around the
American Old West, and I suppose they can’t be expected to have a super-good
grip on that time period. At any rate, they are just so deliciously
entertaining I can’t help but forgive them.
Buddy continues to be Buddy, hammering
away at fully solidifying our Stockholm Syndrome by being sweet and loving one
minute, then, oh, say, dragging a terrified bird into the apartment the next. The
issue with my family member continues to be heartbreaking, but I am trying to
find some peace and normalcy day-to-day. I don’t really know where I stand
spiritually and or religiously anymore but I am not one of those assholes who
get mad if you say you are praying for me/my family. I was very touched
recently when one of the emergency room nurses at my work stopped by to get the
family member’s first name so she could pray for her more effectively. So if you’re inclined
that way, I am not turning anything down. We are navigating difficult
waters, and who knows what physical effect could be had in the ether of good
intentions and loving thoughts? Thank you to all of you who have reached out.
It means the world to me.
--Kristen McHenry
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